……..

Bhavendra glanced at Riddhima as she walked into the room. Without waiting, he asked, "Where is everyone?"

"They’ve all gone to the temple," Riddhima replied, adjusting her dupatta. Her tone was casual, but her gaze flickered to the others in the room. “Advait is sitting here, busy with his coffee, and Amaira and Vihaan are supposedly studying in their room. Though, Who knows what they’re actually up to?”

Bhavendra’s eyes drifted to Advait, who appeared deeply engrossed in his phone. Hesitating for a moment, Bhavendra spoke up, “Advait?”

Advait looked up from his phone, his expression calm but curious.

“I was asking,” Bhavendra began tentatively, “if you’ve spoken to Ruhaan lately? Call him over, it’s been so long since he last visited.” There was a subtle note of longing in his voice, a plea that he tried to mask with a composed demeanor.

Riddhima nodded in agreement, her brows knitting slightly. “Yes, it’s been ages. He doesn’t even answer our calls anymore.”

Advait could sense the weight behind their words. Nodding with quiet understanding, Advait responded, “Alright, I’ll talk to him today. If he’s free, I’ll ask him to come over.”

Bhavendra and Riddhima exchanged faint smiles, but they lacked the warmth one might expect. It was a dry, almost forced smile—the kind that concealed deeper emotions. They missed Ruhaan terribly and knew he was intentionally keeping his distance.

Once upon a time, they had tried to shield Ruhaan from the chaos that engulfed their home. The environment had been toxic, and they had sent him away, hoping to protect him from falling into destructive habits. But fate had other plans. Despite their best efforts, Ruhaan had walked a path they had desperately tried to keep him from. He had become entangled in the very sins they had feared, shackled by the chains of vices they had worked so hard to avoid.

Their hearts ached, not just for his absence but for the realization that, despite their love, they couldn’t save him from himself.

“And what about that meeting? Are you going?” Bhavendra asked, his tone laced with curiosity as he leaned forward slightly, studying Advait’s reaction.

Advait frowned, his eyebrows knitting together as he weighed the situation in his mind. After a brief pause, he nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, Chachaji, I’ll go.”

Bhavendra’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before he sighed, his expression growing heavier. “I just don’t understand what Tej is up to... What is he trying to achieve with all of this?”

Advait let out a bitter smile, a sharp contrast to the pain flickering in his eyes. “He just doesn’t want to see me,” he replied, his voice low but steady. His words carried the weight of deep hurt, a pain he didn’t bother to mask.

His expression betrayed his inner turmoil. The strained relationship with his father was no secret, but hearing his own voice acknowledge it out loud made the wound feel even rawer. Despite the rift, they all continued to wear the facade of a happy family.

The bitterness in his tone mirrored the unspoken reality they all shared but refused to confront. It wasn’t just about disagreements or misunderstandings—it was about a love that had been fractured, leaving behind nothing but sharp edges that cut deeper with every encounter.

Riddhima's gaze shifted toward the door, her brows furrowing slightly as she murmured, loud enough for both Bhavendra and Advait to hear, “Where is everyone? Why haven’t they come back yet?”

Bhavendra, leaning back in his chair, replied in a casual tone, “They must be on their way.”

But Advait’s eyes, too, wandered to the door, a flicker of unease crossing his face. His thoughts churned restlessly. Why aren’t they back yet? He wondered, the question lodging itself in his mind like a splinter.

He knew a couple of them were with Tej, the one person he couldn’t bring himself to trust. The tension between them ran far deeper than what anyone else could perceive, least of all Drishti. She remained blissfully unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface. To her, it was nothing more than a simple family disagreement—a rift that time and patience could heal.

Advait had let her go, not wanting to impose his fears or conflicts on her, but now, as the minutes stretched into silence, worry began to seep in. His mind conjured scenarios, each one darker than the last. Was everything okay? Had something gone wrong?

His fingers tightened around the edge of his cup as the room grew quieter, the stillness amplifying his concern. He masked his worry behind a calm expression, but inside, the knots tightened, his heart restless as he waited.

As soon as Advait heard the sound of approaching footsteps, his head snapped up, his gaze fixed on the doorway. His heart pounded slightly faster, though his expression remained composed. First, he saw Tej enter, his usual commanding presence. Following closely were Anjali and Urmila, their faces calm.

But Advait’s eyes weren’t searching for them. His gaze darted past them, lingering at the door, waiting for her to appear.

When Tej stepped further into the room, his sharp eyes swept over everyone, his demeanor as cold and unreadable as ever. Advait straightened himself to leave.

Finally, Drishti stepped in, her presence soft yet unmistakable. The tension in Advait’s shoulders eased slightly at the sight of her, though he quickly masked his emotions. Catching Bhavendra’s eye, he muttered a polite excuse, slipping away without another glance at Tej.

Tej settled into the sofa with a practiced ease, his expression unreadable, while Bhavendra gave a knowing smile to no one in particular. Urmila followed, taking her place on another part of the couch. Drishti quietly slipped into the kitchen, her steps measured. Meanwhile, Anjali took out the prasad, handing the first portion to Bhavendra, who accepted it with a nod before distributing it to everyone else.

Advait’s attention, however, was elsewhere. His gaze followed Drishti as she disappeared into the kitchen. He clutched his coffee cup, a silent debate playing out in his mind. Finally, he decided to follow her, but just as he took a step, Anjali’s voice called out his name.

His feet halted mid-step, and he turned toward her. Anjali approached him, her gentle smile a contrast to the tense atmosphere in the room. She extended the prasad to him, and he accepted it without a word. Her smile lingered for a moment longer before she turned away, her voice calm as she asked, “Where is everyone else?”

“They’re in their rooms,” Riddhima replied casually. “Vihaan and Amaira are studying today.”

Tej, who had been quiet until then, suddenly spoke, his voice cutting through the air. “I don’t think there’s any need for Vihaan to study anymore. He should start focusing on the business now.”

The room seemed to shift under the weight of his words. A ripple of unease passed through those present as glances were exchanged. Advait froze in place, his jaw tightening. His fingers clenched into a fist, and he turned sharply, ready to respond.

But before he could speak, his eyes met Anjali’s. She was watching him intently, her gaze steady yet pleading. In that silent moment, she conveyed her message—*don’t say anything*.

The conflict in Advait’s eyes softened, though his stance remained tense. Without another word, he turned away, swallowing his frustration as silence settled back over the room.

Drishti stood in the kitchen, a glass of water in her hand. She had been leaning casually against the counter, her posture relaxed as she allowed herself a moment of ease. But the second Advait walked in, her demeanor changed. Straightening her posture, she turned to face him fully, her lips curving into a soft, welcoming smile.

Her smile faltered slightly as she noticed his expression. Advait placed his cup on the counter with a touch more force than necessary, his face a reflection of his turbulent mood. The crease in his brows, the tightness in his jaw—everything about him screamed frustration.

Drishti’s gaze lingered on Advait, her smile fading into concern before she playfully broke the silence. “Kya hua? Subah-subah kaddu jaisa mooh kyu bana liya hai?” Her teasing tone sliced through the tension hanging in the air, catching him off guard.

Advait blinked, momentarily surprised by her words, but then a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. For a brief moment, the weight of his frustration seemed to lift. He looked at her, his eyes softening as they met her gaze. Somehow, she always managed to ground him, even when his world felt like it was spinning out of control.

Still, a part of him couldn’t shake the thought that Tej might have said something to her. He didn’t want her caught in the crossfire of the family’s endless conflicts. With that in mind, Advait took a step closer, closing the distance between them. Standing in front of her now, he searched her face for any sign of unease.

Drishti, sensing his shift in mood, placed her glass on the counter, her attention solely on him. The teasing glint in her eyes softened into something more understanding, as if silently telling him she was ready to listen.

Advait couldn’t bring himself to address his real concern directly, so he opted for a safer question. “How was everything? You went to the temple after quite a few days, didn’t you?”

Drishti paused for a moment, sensing there was more to his question than he let on. But when she looked at his face, her worries melted away. Smiling warmly, she replied, “It was nice. You know, I thought Papa Ji would be the intimidating type, but he turned out to be so kind. Do you know, he even told me that Ma and he had a love marriage? I didn’t know that at all!”

Her voice bubbled with excitement as she shared the revelation, her enthusiasm lighting up her face. But her casual use of “Papa Ji” to refer to Tej struck a chord deep within Advait. His faint smile faded, replaced by a subtle tension in his jaw.

Drishti, lost in her excitement, didn’t notice the shift in his mood immediately. For Advait, though, the word felt like a thorn—sharp, unwelcome, and painful. To hear her speak about his father in such an affectionate way was jarring, especially when his relationship with Tej was steeped in bitterness.

He said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes. Drishti’s excitement began to falter as she picked up on his unspoken discomfort, her smile dimming slightly as she searched his face for what was wrong.

“K… kya hua?” Drishti asked softly, her brows furrowing in concern as she reached out and gently took his hand. Her touch was light, almost hesitant, but it carried a warmth that silently pleaded for him to share what was on his mind.

Advait closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to push away the storm brewing within. When he opened them again, his gaze met hers, calmer now but still guarded. “Nothing,” he said with a faint, forced smile. “Seems like you enjoyed.”

Drishti tilted her head slightly, studying him. His words felt hollow, as if they were meant more to dismiss her concern than to reassure her. She squeezed his hand gently, not letting go, silently letting him know that she wasn’t convinced but wouldn’t press him—at least not yet.

“Hmm,” she murmured, her voice laced with a quiet understanding. She knew Advait well enough to see through his walls, but for now, she let the moment pass, hoping he’d open up when he was ready.

Advait glanced down at her hand, still gently holding his. A small, genuine smile broke through his otherwise guarded expression. To reassure her, he reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek softly. His palm rested there, warm and steady, as his thumb tenderly caressed her skin in a soothing motion.

Drishti felt the weight of his unspoken emotions in that simple gesture. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes briefly. The warmth of his hand on her cheek grounded her, silently conveying what words couldn’t.His smile deepened, softer this time, as he watched her.

"Now I should go," Advait said softly, his voice low but steady. Drishti nodded, understanding, though a hint of reluctance flickered in her eyes.

But before he turned away, he leaned in closer, his movements deliberate yet tender. Gently, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. The unexpected gesture made her heart skip a beat, her cheeks flushing slightly. She hadn’t anticipated it, but the warmth it brought lingered long after.

A small, shy smile spread across her lips as she looked up at him. “Jaldi aaiyega,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with a quiet plea.

Advait gave her a slight nod, his lips curving into a faint smile before he stepped away. Even as he walked out, her words and the look in her eyes stayed with him, tugging at his thoughts.

Advait stepped out of the kitchen, his eyes immediately landing on Tej, who sat on the sofa, casually chatting with the others. A frown crept onto Advait’s face. Since when does he spend time with the family? he thought bitterly. What’s he up to now?

The shift in Tej’s behavior was unsettling. For as long as Advait could remember, Tej had kept his distance from the family, emotionally and physically. And yet now, here he was, effortlessly mingling, as if the past never existed.

Advait’s mind churned with questions. Is he trying to be good? To make amends? The idea felt absurd, especially when Tej’s actions at the office had only created chaos. Why play the role of the devoted family man here while stirring up trouble elsewhere?

The contradictions gnawed at him, but Advait shook his head, brushing the thoughts aside. He had neither the time nor the patience to unravel Tej’s motives now. Without a second glance, he headed for the door, his mind still clouded but his steps resolute.

………..

Sam handed Advait a file, his expression tense, as if the weight of the company's future rested on the pages within. “Sir, if they don’t join us, it could be a significant loss for the company,” he said, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

Advait nodded thoughtfully, his sharp eyes scanning the document. He didn’t rush his response, taking a moment to consider the implications. His focus shifted to Sam, his tone calm but probing. “They were some of our best workers, weren’t they? Then how did that building collapse? You’re telling me every mixture was accurate, every standard met. So where did we go wrong?”

His voice carried a weight that demanded a thorough answer, not just surface-level excuses. It wasn’t just a question—it was a challenge to examine every aspect of the project.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, knowing the importance of transparency in this conversation. “Sir, the materials were indeed up to code, and the workers followed the outlined procedures. But…” He hesitated, then continued, “the subcontractors we brought in might have cut corners. We’re investigating discrepancies in their reports and inspections. That’s where we think the issue lies.”

Advait leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping the edge of the table rhythmically, a habit he had when piecing together a strategy. “Discrepancies,” he repeated, his voice low and contemplative. “Sam, in our business, there’s no room for assumptions. I want a full audit of every decision made on that project—materials, contracts, approvals, timelines. If this points to negligence, we need to act fast. I’m not letting a single weak link compromise this company’s integrity.”

Sam nodded firmly. “I’ll get the team on it immediately, sir. And about the workers—should we reach out to them with an offer?”

Advait’s gaze sharpened. “Yes, but don’t just dangle incentives. Build trust. They need to understand that we value their expertise and won’t tolerate the kind of shortcuts that led to this mess. Make it clear—our standards come first.”

As Sam exited the room, Advait’s eyes returned to the file. He knew this wasn’t just about damage control; it was about rebuilding credibility. One wrong step, and the entire foundation of the business could crumble like that ill-fated building.

Advait closed the file and placed it aside on the table. Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes for a brief moment to relax but quickly opened them again when he remembered that he had to call Ruhaan. He picked up his phone and dialed Ruhaan’s number.

After a few rings, Ruhaan picked up the call. "Where were you busy?" he asked as he answered.

"Busy? No, brother, I wasn’t busy anywhere," Ruhaan replied, trying to sound casual but with a tone that suggested he was covering something.

"How’s everything going? Is everything fine there?" Advait asked.

"Yes," Ruhaan responded shortly.

"Did something happen? Ruhaan, are you hiding something?" Advait asked, sensing the change in his voice.

This time, Ruhaan's voice became a bit brighter. "No, brother, if something happens, I’ll tell you."

"Well, if you don’t tell me, I’ll beat you," Advait replied with a teasing tone. "By the way, I called to tell you to come here for a while."

"Here... why now?" Ruhaan asked.

"Why not? It’s your home, and you haven’t even met your sister-in-law yet. She doesn’t know about you."

"You didn’t even tell her about me? How bad, brother. Alright, I’ll see if I can come."

"Don’t waste time. I told you, you have to come, so come. And anyway, I have a meeting in five days. After that, I won’t be able to meet you."

"Okay, brother," Ruhaan said, finally agreeing.

"Good," Advait said, his voice final as he ended the call and placed the phone back on the table. At least one thing was settled for now.

Advait sat back in his chair, his mind racing as he replayed the conversation with Ruhaan. Why did he sound off? he thought to himself. What had happened?

There was something in Ruhaan’s tone that didn’t sit right with him. The way he tried to brush off the tension, the slight hesitation in his voice—it all felt off. Ruhaan was never one to hold back, especially when talking to Advait. So what was going on? Why did he seem so distant, as if he were hiding something?

Advait shook his head, trying to push the nagging feeling aside. He had a meeting to prepare for, and there were other pressing matters to handle. But Ruhaan’s strange behavior lingered in the back of his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right, and he knew he would have to get to the bottom of it sooner or later.